


To Become a Legend

by soundscape



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21590974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundscape/pseuds/soundscape
Summary: A Wraith-centric collection of drabbles varying in length exploring her development as she joins the Apex Games to search for information about her past. Finding camaraderie, gaining confidence, trusting herself, overcoming PTSD, developing her identity, uncovering the IMC's secrets, and... rising to fame as an Apex Legend.Most likely no linear plot. Fragments and snapshots of her life after escaping the IMC Detention Facility.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Wraith | Renee Blasey, Pathfinder & Wraith | Renee Blasey, Undecided, more to come but basically everyone & wraith
Kudos: 20





	1. First Encounter - Pathfinder

**Author's Note:**

> My writing is pretty rusty but here goes nothing. Based off my headcanons and what I can pick out of the lore. Lots to be updated.

Wraith had spent over a year preparing and formulating her plans to join the Apex Games. After digging around for any information she could find on the facility that once held her captive, she steadily uncovered more and more ties from her prison to the games themselves. Perhaps, she thought, if she took part herself, she would find herself one step closer to figuring everything out — who she was, what the facility wanted with her, and why her memories were blocked in the first place.

She often thought back to the day she escaped and found herself in Kings Canyon. The mysterious figure who saved her was practically her mirror image. Since that time, she had learned through Void Jumping that the figure was, as she first thought, _her_ — from a different dimension. Wraith wondered how that version of her became so fixated on revenge. How many experiences did they share? What did they know that she didn’t, and why wouldn’t they explain anything to her? Obviously they were out to get the people who performed the experiments on her, so they must have a lot in common… but as of now, she had no real interest in seeking revenge. She didn't know enough.

Truthfully, she had no interest in killing _anyone_. And the Apex Games were a bloodsport. But she had no other choice — winning would grant her power, and physically being in the arena would give her access to a hidden breadth of knowledge. The facility, and other related institutions, were scattered around the arenas, after all. She was just going to have to get used to it — and keep her distance from the other Legends. She couldn’t let _anyone_ find out what her goals were, or else it would jeopardize her entire mission— 

**Pay attention. Someone is approaching you.**

“Hello!” 

Wraith snapped her eyes up from the table she’d been staring holes into for the past 20 minutes, pulled from her thoughts. The iconic Legend Pathfinder stood before her, waving his mechanical arm, his voice _way_ too cheery and enthusiastic for a robot.

“‘Wraith’, is it?” She scowled at the Legend suspiciously, still tense and on the defensive from being caught off guard. “I’m Pathfinder! It is **so** nice to meet you. I love making new friends.”

She paused. No matter how many times she heard someone address her as ‘Wraith’, she couldn’t get used to it. For the bulk of her existing memories, she was only ever referred to as a number. She wasn’t sure why she chose that name as her alias for the games — it had been the first thing that came to mind, and for whatever reason, it felt… familiar. 

“Hello,” she replied tersely. This was her competition speaking to her… and from all the studying she had done on the best Legends to date, he was good. What did he want with her, a newcomer? “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m just saying hello. I always greet the newbs!” He replied, an emoticon of a smile flashing over the screen on his chest. “It’s more fun for me when I can assign a name and personality to the person I’m fighting. Don’t you think so too?”

“... Great. Not really." She stared past Pathfinder into the corridor behind him, controlling her expression; keeping her face stoic. "It doesn't matter who I'm fighting... as long as I win. I'm quick. You'll learn soon enough."

She already knew long before signing up for the games she would have to fight for her spot at the top — and to do that, she had to show no signs of weakness. This meant exuding confidence… something she still wasn’t quite used to. Her words probably came out forced. She would have to keep practicing.

“That’s great news, friend. I’m sure you will make an excellent teammate!” Pathfinder gave her a thumbs up. “Or at least, I’ll have fun chasing you down.”

Wraith didn’t need her voices to tell her that the Legend was completely serious, despite his happy demeanor. He was an experienced killer. Though she didn’t show it on her face, she felt a chill run down her spine at his words.

But it wasn’t from fear. She was excited. Something about the mental image of going toe to toe in a fight to the death against one of the top Legends seemed exhilarating, and… nostalgic. She had the same faded feeling she experienced when she created her alias ‘Wraith’, but she didn’t know why.

The rush of adrenaline gave her a boost of confidence, and she directed her eyes back to the robot, her lips curling into a small smirk. “Game on. I’ll take you out.”

“Haha, good luck with that. Anyway, I have to leave! It was nice chatting with you. I look forward to beating you soon!”

Wraith gave a curt nod. “See you around.”


	2. Syringes (Bloodhound)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodhound shows her the ropes. They cover medical supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD/panic attack. Needles.

“When you are to be injured, you will have to plunge one of these into your flesh.” Bloodhound revealed a series of different size syringes to Wraith, who was watching intently. “If the gods have it, you will find these scattered around the arena along with other loot. They will heal you.”

“Okay... “ she reached over to pick up the smallest of the syringes, turning it in her hands with muted curiosity. “It looks like they have different purposes. I’m guessing this one’s used for smaller wounds.”

“That would be correct.” Bloodhound set the other two sizes in front of her, and began pointing to them in order as they explained their use. “That small one you are holding is used for minor injuries. It is the fastest to use. This larger one is a proper med kit-- it will completely heal all of your wounds. And this one--”

They picked up the last one. It was shaped different from the other two, and its size was comparable to the smaller syringe.

“This is used for revival. You cannot hesitate with this one. It is slow to use.” The hunter began placing the syringes back into their corresponding packs. Wraith made a mental note of what each one looked like. “We are given these to revive our fallen squad. You need not find them yourself on the battlefield.”

“Got it. Sounds easy enough to remember.”

“... I will mention,” they started slowly, raising their head to look Wraith in the eye, “that there exists such a thing as self-revival.”

Wraith fell silent, wondering what that would entail.

“You can use one of these… to revive yourself when you are down.” She watched as Bloodhound unwrapped the last syringe. “It is the most difficult. You will not have the strength to do so without the golden knockdown shield. And…”

With the syringe still capped, they leveled the tip at Wraith’s chest and pressed lightly into the fabric of her uniform, pinpointing exactly where her heart was. Anxiety quietly crept up on her as she stared at the needle, realizing the implications of their actions.

“It goes straight into the heart.”

“Correct. Just as a normal revival would for your teammates.” Bloodhound pulled the syringe away and stored it with the others. “It is much easier to pierce another in the chest. But when it comes to one’s self, it is… quite the task.”

“I think I can manage it.” The words left her mouth quietly, meant more to convince herself than Bloodhound. “I’ll have no other choice.”

“Well, I think that is all for today. You have been a good listener.” Though she couldn’t see through their mask, there was the hint of a smile in their voice. With their backpack in one hand, they extended the other towards her in a friendly gesture. “Much better than most. I look forward to meeting you on the battlefield, as a friend or foe.”

Wraith hesitated, before meeting their hand with her own. Bloodhound shook it warmly.

“There is more equipment here on the training grounds. As well as dummies to practice with. If you have not already, I suggest you take time there and learn. The Allfather provides many things for us, but we cannot rely on the gods for everything. There are things we must do on our own.”

“That’s some good advice.” As mysterious and intimidating as she knew Bloodhound could be, when you spoke with them one on one, they turned out to be pretty respectful. It put her at ease. “I’ll take it. Thank you... it would have been hard to figure most of this out on my own.”

“Good luck.” They began to depart. “Farewell.”

Wraith directed her gaze to her surroundings, scanning over the training grounds. With her newfound knowledge, there was a lot she had left to work on before the Apex Games began. As she panned over the medicinal supplies, her eyes caught on one of the revives.

She walked over to pick it up. Though she had been suppressing as much as possible while talking to Bloodhound, she couldn’t help the memories of the IMC detention facility hitting her now as she handled the needle, staring at the capped tip.

First, she recalled Bloodhound pressing it to her chest. She mimicked that action now, holding it directly over her heart with both hands. Raising her arms slowly, she braced herself, steadying her grip on the syringe. She paused, hesitating.

It was still capped. This wouldn’t truly be injecting it, she just wanted to practice the motion.  _ It’s fine, _ she thought.  _ This is fine. _

And she swung.

Right before the tip touched her chest, she stopped her movement abruptly, letting out a gasp and falling to her knees. The needle dropped to the ground, and she clutched her temples, doubling over. Though she was staring at the ground she didn’t actually  _ see _ anything in front of her.

What she did see was a blank, white room, lit dimly. The strapped chair. That horrible man in nursing wear looming over her, leering, a large syringe in hand. He came closer to her. Threatened her. Laughed smugly. The needle pierced the skin of her neck--

Her mind flashed to another scene. There were more doctors. More needles. She was strapped to the same chair, in the same blank room. She had gone through this before. The needles were for her eyes.  _ Please, no, leave me alone, go away, PLEASE-- _

**It’s not real. It’s going to be okay.**

The voice abruptly shook Wraith from her memories, and as she became aware of her surroundings, her screaming stopped. She clenched her fists, the ground beneath her coming into view. Tears pricked her eyes. Her heart was racing, and she felt a horrible pressure in her chest.

She stayed like that for a long moment, steadying her breathing.

**Get up. Go somewhere quiet. It’s going to be okay.**

She knew the voice was right. She struggled to move, eventually coming to a stand. Wraith began walking towards the exit, forcing her tears to stop. If she was going to cry, she had to get out of the public’s eye first. Making a scene was the worst thing she could do for herself.

“Hey…” she called out, her voice quivering. “If you’re still there… I can’t…”

**You can.**

“...”

**You’re strong.**

“...”

**Don’t give up.**

“... Okay.”

She said nothing else, knowing her time with the voices was limited. Instead, she decided to take the encouragement.


	3. voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> old voices stop their haunts and new voices fill their place.

When she was locked in the detention facility, they would never stop.

Doctors came to visit her – torture her – taunt her. They told her to struggle.

Alone, and crying. They would try to comfort her.

Attempting to get what little sleep she could. They woke her up, commanding her to look for an escape.

Some days they were absolutely relentless. They demanded to know why she didn’t fight back. Why do you let them treat you like that? – they would ask. Hit them. Bite them. Scratch them. Turn on them!

But she wasn’t like that. She couldn’t handle violence. Struggling would only make the doctors angrier. Why did she deserve to escape in the first place? What good was she worth to the rest of the world? That hellhole was all she’d ever known. Anything she’d experienced beforehand was wiped from her memories.

She didn’t even have a name. She was only a number. The word ‘Wraith’ would come to her often, but she didn’t know why. It was a fitting name for herself, she thought. A wraith was like a ghost, right? The image of someone before their death. A wisp of something. It was accurate – to the outside world, she didn’t exist. She was a shell of a person. She had no tangible identity, nothing to her name.

She was nothing more than a wraith. So that’s what she called herself.

—

On the day she escaped, the voices went quiet. 

The more independent she became, the less they had to say. It was like the instant she made the decision to accept them, they wanted to go away, leaving her all alone. Now that she knew who the voices were, where they were coming from – she wanted to hear them. She wanted to talk to them, to learn more about herself through them.

Although she was free, she was lonelier than ever. The voices she was once afraid of, that she resented, that assailed her almost daily – they had kept her company during her darkest times. Here and there, they would talk to her, but they were far less frequent. When they did come, it was mostly to warn her of something.

Maybe, to versions of herself from other timelines, she looked like she had her life put together.

—

Voices.

For once, they weren’t hers.

She lied on the bed in her room on the drop ship, staring at the ceiling in mild annoyance. Legends (mostly Mirage’s booming voice, and whatever poor crowd was listening to him) were talking in the common area. If only there was a mute button to make people be quiet. It was late – she wanted to get some rest before their next match. Why were they so loud?

Wait. Her brows furrowed, realization slowly dawning on her.

As the epiphany abruptly struck her from her thoughts, she had to bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle her own laughter. This was absolutely ridiculous! For five long years she had wallowed in her own loneliness, and she hadn’t even realized!

The void left by her voices disappearing was long filled. She had her voices on the battlefield, and on the rare occasion, other circumstances. The rest of the time, when the voices were silent – new ones came to take their place.

And to think she was complaining to herself just a moment ago. Homes were supposed to be noisy places, she then decided. She shouldn’t take the noise for granted.

Sleep could wait. She made her way to the common area, wanting to pay a visit to the others to see what they were chatting about.


End file.
